


Tom's Art Room

by BlindCupid



Category: Mansfield Park (1999), Mansfield Park - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:53:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22685038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlindCupid/pseuds/BlindCupid
Summary: Tom lays in a hospital bed after a car accident and Fanny goes to his art room to bring him something to make the hospital feel more like home. What she find there brings back old memories and new revelations.
Relationships: Tom Bertram/Fanny Price
Comments: 4
Kudos: 54





	Tom's Art Room

Fanny knew she shouldn’t invade Tom’s art room without his permission but she thought perhaps he’d like to have some of his art around him when he woke. He had been in the car when his friend crashed into a tree because they’d been drunk driving. It was fortunate no one had been killed but Tom was in critical care and hadn’t woken from his medically induced coma yet. He would soon and Fanny just wanted him to have something to make his hospital room feel like home. 

Fanny felt like a kid sticking her hand in the cookie jar before dinner. Her hand trembled around the doorknob. Stepping into the room felt so intimate, like she’d just stepped inside of a part of Tom. She could almost feel the residual emotion he poured into his work while he was in this room. 

Most of his paintings where impressionistic and quite abstract. Fanny had never been brave enough to tell him, but she loved his paintings. She felt like she could feel what he felt when he painted them. Though, she couldn’t always work out where the feelings came from. She knew what she felt and why, but not why Tom would feel that way. 

For being such a lively, outgoing sort of man, Tom had a mystery about him that fascinated and concerned Fanny. She was glad he had his art to express that side of himself. Like she had her writing. 

Against the wall laid a stack of paintings. The first was a swirl of color and shapes. Beautiful and haunting. 

Not quite what she was looking for. 

Behind it another of a similar style but its effect felt like a stab of sorrow and anguish. The next was warm and somehow sad- it looked like how she felt when she found out that Edmond proposed to Mary Crawford. She moved on.

The next pulled a gasp from her lips- a realism of Mansfield Park in the fall, the sun illuminating the trees that lead to the entrance of the large estate. It was beautiful. 

Eager for more, Fanny moved to the last painting and nearly dropped the Mansfield painting. It was a painting of her. She was in the garden in the rain- her face, full of peace and joy, eyes closed and looking up into the sky. Her arms spread wide and her clothes indecently soaked. 

Fanny loved the rain, she couldn’t count the times she snuck out into Mansfield’s garden in the rain and stood just like that, soaking it up. The painting was so beautiful it hurt to look at it and yet she could not tear her eyes away. Why had he painted her like that? When had he even noticed? 

Carefully she put the paintings back. She’d indulged herself long enough. She need to find something smaller, something she could sneak into the hospital. Shouldn’t there be sketch books somewhere? 

The room was rather disorganized. Not too messy, just no apparent organization to it. 

She found the first sketchbook under a paint pallet. It had sketches of buildings in London, a few of a particular cafe and random people drinking coffee or tea, most everyone was on their cellphone but there were several sketches of an elderly couple taking tea together. The woman laughed and the man kissed her hand. They looked in love. It was sweet and heart warming. 

Fanny flipped through the unfamiliar faces and landmarks until her hands stilled and she found herself looking into her own eyes. It wasn’t a full portrait, a rough outline of her face and features but her eyes were almost fully rendered. The next half a dozen pages were of her too. 

She held onto the sketchbook and continued her search. 

She told herself that artists often use friends as subject studies, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that the drawings felt different from the others. Felt intimate. 

Maybe she was reading too much into it. It was only because they were of her that it felt different. Anyone would feel that way, seeing a drawing of themselves from someone else’s perspective. 

But she only became more uneasy as she found more sketchbooks and found herself over and over in the back of them. Always in the back, like an afterthought or a secret. 

The last sketchbook, Fanny found underneath Tom’s camera bag. It felt different as soon as she picked it up. The corners were worn and pages wanted to fall out. Opening the first page, her throat tightened, seeing herself first. 

It looked familiar. So, did the next and the following and she remembered- the summer Edmund had been away at an internship, Maria had just met Rushworth and Julia had made herself their chaperone or maybe Maria had made her tag along. 

That summer, Fanny and Tom had spent together. He dragged her on adventures, it was a summer of firsts and lasts for Fanny- things she’d never even share with Edmund because he’d be horrified and never look at her the same way again. 

Tom had take her on her first and last bar crawl, the first time she got so drunk she puked on the sidewalk between bars. Her first cigarette and later her first and last drag of marijuana. 

There had been lazy days too. Sunny afternoons, picnicking while he sketched and she read. 

Rainy days watching Friends reruns on the telly, until they fell asleep together on the couch. She had woken up with her head on his shoulder and his arm around her. His shirt had dampened from where she’d drooled on him. She had tried to apologize but he said he didn’t mind. 

It was a carefree summer full of laughter. Fanny was sure she’d never laughed so much and so often as she had done durning her summer with Tom. 

So, it felt natural when the last page in the sketchbook was of her laughing, but the photograph clipped to the top of the page was a surprise. It was a selfie Tom had taken of them, his arm was around her, he looked happy and healthier then she’d seen him an a long time. 

Then remembered him pale and weak laying his his hospital bed. What if she never saw him happy and healthy again? The tears came unrestrained and she could not keep the gasping cries from her lips. 

When Edmund returned after his internship she’d been so happy to see him, she’d run to him almost knocking him over and hugging him with all she was worth. 

Tom left for London that afternoon. Fanny had been heartbroken, she thought she’d found a friend in Tom and she hoped they’d continue as they had been just with Edmund there too. It was like their summer had never happened, like it had only been some pleasant dream. Tom never alluded to it; so, neither did she. 

She clutched the sketchbook to her chest. 

“Oh, Tom, please be okay.” She pleaded to the room. 

It was the sketchbook of their summer together that she took with her, the next time she visited Tom in the hospital. Sir Thomas had barely eaten or slept since Tom’s accident but Fanny had been able to convince him to go home and rest a little promising to stay with Tom and call if there was any change. 

The doctor had lessened Tom’s morphine so, Tom could wake up at anytime. Fanny sat in the chair next to Tom. 

She took a moment just to watch him breathe, watch the monitors steady beat. It was reassuring and horrifying at the same time. 

Taking out the photo from the sketch book, she propped it up on the end table before taking out her book. She fell asleep with her book propped in her lap and her hand holding Tom’s limp hand resting by his side. 

When she woke Tom was stroking her knuckles with his thumb and his head was turned, looking at the photograph. 

“Tom?” She spoke softly, barely believing she was seeing him awake. 

At her voice he turned his attention to her and smiled. 

“Hello, Fanny girl.” He voice was raspy and a little slurred. “Do you remember our summer, Fanny?” 

“Of course I do, Tom.” 

“I fell in love with you that summer.’

Fanny gasped but he continued.

“I’d never been happier. I was going to tell you, but then Ed came home and I realized I didn’t stand a chance.’

“I kept waiting for him to wake up, to realize that you’re in love with him and that he’d be an idiot not to love you back. I thought I could live with losing to my brother. He’s a better man than me and you deserve a good man like him.’

“But then he met Mary and I thought maybe... but then Henry Crawford proposed to you.’

His face turned sour. 

“Don’t marry Crawford, Fanny. Please don’t. I can’t bare it. He’s not... I could love you better, Fanny. If you gave me a chance. I could love you better.” 

“Oh, Tom.” Fanny pressed her cheek into their joined hands. His thumb reached to caress her skin. 

“Fanny.” His voice pleading and full of longing. 

Fanny kissed the back of Tom’s hand. 

“I love you Tom. I fell in love with you too, that summer. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize.” 

“Oh, Fanny, it doesn’t matter anymore. Be my girl, Fanny, won’t you? I promise I will be a better man for you.” 

Fanny nodded, with a teary smile and rose up to kiss him. She kissed him softly, tenderly as not to hurt him. He applied a little more pressure but didn’t have the energy for more. 

When his family returned, they found him awake, staring lovingly at Fanny as she read to him. There had never been so much hope in one room before; so much love and happiness.

After Tom recovered, he and Fanny seemed to pick up from where they left off. Tom showed Fanny the world and Fanny showed Tom how to be the best version of himself. 

And they lived happily ever after.


End file.
